


New Soul

by colocakes



Category: Karakuridouji Ultimo
Genre: F/M, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, Self Harm, Spoilers, Suicidal Tendencies, major warnings for depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colocakes/pseuds/colocakes
Summary: "I'm a new soul, I came to this strange world hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take. But since I came here, felt the joy and the fear, finding myself making every possible mistake!" New Soul by Yael NaimReality creeps into his world in small ways. Its in the way K has to get a job to make ends meet, leaving Vice alone for long hours at a time. Its in the way that nobody texts or calls him, even though he knows they're all whole and alive again, to.Or,Vice wakes up as a human after the final battle with Dunstan. He does not cope well.





	New Soul

This is an old story that i've been working on for a looong while. Its my take on the aftermath of the series, given the characters and their pasts, and how they might interact and exist as just regular human children. Its approx 3 years-ish from the last scene where they're all high schoolers. 

Heads up, there are some inconsistencies from the comic, as the comic and its translations were...ah... sketchy. To say the least. But either way, this begins in december 12. so uh. There. I admitted that I messed up and just dont care enough to rewrite shit. 

Warnings: spoilers (no rly, the entire series), BIG BIG warnings for self harm, HUGE warnings for depression and disassociation, and generally vice related things. Cursing and such.   
Inspiration: “miss wanna-die” from vocaloid (miku I think?) “freeze your brain” from the heathers play, “make believe” by frankly speaking, “the river” by good charlotte, “senbonzakura” cover by lizz robinett, “waving through a window” from dear evan hansen, “hurt” by johnny cash  
rating: M/R-18 for strong...ah, just everything.   
Summary: Reality creeps into his world in small ways. Its in the way K has to get a job to make ends meet, leaving Vice alone for long hours at a time. Its in the way that nobody texts or calls him, even though he knows they're all whole and alive again, to. 

So uh... in theory, part 2 will be the last chapter and also be done...eventually. But until then, enjoy this I guess. If I finish this, i'd rly like to make a series of smaller oneshots about the other doji. 

0000000000

 

When he opened his eyes, the world was dark. Silence reigned over him, heavy and immovable. There was an unnatural stiffness to his limbs, aching when the raven haired youth tried to move them. Ache. That set off alarm bells. Swallowing hard, Vice realized belatedly that his night vision wasn’t kicking in and there were no alerts letting him know the source of his damages. 

Dread filled him. 

Sucking in a wet gasping breath, he felt like he was dying. He could feel the way his lungs filled for the first time, an unbearable pain that stopped his attempts to move in their tracks. Nothing short of being torn apart from his other half, from his body, had hurt this much in his entire life. 

Vice laid there in the damp grass for a long time, quivering in pain and struggling to understand what had happened. Slowly, with each shallow breath, the pain dimmed. He had no idea how long he'd been there, covered in dirt and staring at the sky with glassy eyes. 

From his right, came the sound of boots stumbling through the dirt. K, he thought dimly, the only real word to come to mind in the midst of his exhausted misery. K is here. When the pain didn’t diminish, he knew something was wrong. 

“God damn...V-Vice, are you alright???” came the frantic murmur.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught. For a second, the dread of K's reaction fluttered wildly in his chest. K knelt beside him, his narrow face filling Vice's vision. In the dark, he could barely see his eyes, but the dampness of his breath told him he was there. 

“Shit...Dunstan really...he really did what he said, didn’t he?” 

An icy feeling took hold of his still quaking body. Dunstan. That crazy old man's last words, something he'd heard briefly when the world turned blindingly bright, came back to him. Another test. Always a test. The breath stuck in Vice's throat and the aches returned.

A hand shook him hard. “V-Vice, you have to breathe!!”

The boy inhaled sharply, lungs protesting with the new work they'd been given. He had so many thoughts, all intangible, but no words to express them. He heard K mutter a soft, “shit”. It was so cold and he could just now spot the pinpricks of stars around the man's dark silhouette. 

It felt like the sky was endless, like it might swallow him. Vice decided he wouldn’t mind that.

000 

The apartment had felt incredibly small before, when his body was all cords and metal and holy bits of wood. Now that his body was as organic as the materials around him, it was stifling. 

K insisted that Vice stay in bed and relax. His body was weak, frail even, and he didn’t trust the former Doji to move around on his own. A fair request, given that Vice had tumbled when he'd tried to stand the day before. He rejected it outright. 

Still, exhaustion took him over quicker than the boy had expected. It was hard to protest effectively when he couldn’t fucking piss by himself. Or eat. The first week went by in blips, the only knowledge that he'd ever been awake being the slivers of consciousness when he woke up to eat or use the bathroom. 

When he slept, Vice dreamt of the future. Of his original form, with its soft blond hair and tan skin and the stark white paper gown he'd worn when Dunstan examined him. He dreamt of being in a jar, the world warped and stretched out impossibly and a familiar tugging warmth at his side. Wires and static took over from the jar. 

Blinking sluggishly, Vice stared at the pockmarked ceiling above him. A memory, he thought dazedly. His stomach twisted in a hollow agony and he wondered when he'd last eaten. He closed his eyes and when he next opened them, the apartment was dyed in shades of gold and rust. The smell of frying meat pulled Vice from his sleep. 

Sitting up stiffly, he looked across the short distance to the kitchenette. The familiarity of the scene, K in his apron cooking and humming off key to some rock song, made Vice nauseous. Like nothing had changed. Swallowing hard, he fought to remind himself to keep breathing. 

In spite of warnings, Vice pushed with his meager strength and stood from the bed. He swayed on his feet, the world spinning, but valiantly stayed upright. Heaving a shaky breath, the boy placed a clammy hand on the bumpy wall. Slowly, he hobbled to the kitchenette, hating himself every time the world spun.

He watched K for a few minutes. The man was frail, wiry and not meant for the hardships of war. He handled the frying pan well though. Maybe, if he'd had just a bit of a brighter future, K could have been a chef. The thought of K chopping up vegetables instead of stabbing someone was such a strange thought. 

K turned, as if he could feel the gaze on him, and blinked. After a moment of staring, he burst into his hysterics. “V-Vice! What are you doing up? You could have hurt yourself!”

His eyes felt so dry. He blinked, relieved to feel the dampness again. “Shut up, K.”

The man's mouth snapped shut into a thin line, brows furrowing over his glasses. Vice glanced around the kitchenette slowly and K followed his gaze. “Oh...were you hungry?” he asked, sounding relieved. 

Vice nodded, finding it difficult to speak lately. He watched as K bustled about the space, pulling out bowls and plates. In no time, Vice is sitting at the low table by the bed. The food tasted amazing, even though he had to remember to breathe in between bites of hamburger steak, and for a brief moment he can almost pretend that nothing has changed.

Its brief, but the peace lasts all the way until he falls asleep that night. Dreams take over. Or memories. Vice cant quite tell anymore. 

000 

Reality creeps into his world in small ways. Its in the way K has to get a job to make ends meet, leaving Vice alone for long hours at a time. Its in the way that nobody texts or calls him, even though he knows they're all whole and alive again, to. 

The biggest reminder comes when Vice is staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Swallowing his pride, even he has to admit it. He looks like shit. Greasy strips of black hair fall into his gaunt and pale face, his eyes seeming too big and too empty. Its not the tan skin or the soft clean blond hair his mind keeps telling him he should be seeing. Its a human child's face, with all of the acne and oily skin to prove it. 

He hated it. He hated himself. When he was a robot, water wasn’t something Vice made a point of going near. It never had a good end. So he'd avoided this room as much as he could. He'd only come in to use the toilet, and noticed his reflection briefly. His lip curled into an ugly scowl, exposing his unclean teeth. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.

 

000 

“Vice, I'm home...” K called out tiredly, kicking off his boots. 

The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of the shower running. Unease pooled in the man's stomach but he pushed it aside, heading for the dresser. It was about time Vice took a bath, he thought. As much as he didn’t want to say it, his former partner in crime stunk. But he couldn’t bring himself to point it out. 

Halfway through making dinner, the bathroom door opened with a slow creak. Glancing up from breading chicken, the man called out, “Hello Vice! I'm making chicken...” 

The boy in front of him is rubbed raw all over, like he scrubbed too hard. Vice doesn’t meet his eyes, tugging at his clean white shirt absently. “Smells good.”

Blinking, K nodded dumbly. “Y-Yeah...”

Vice sat in front of the small tv K had bought a few months ago, ignoring the man's stare. He was clean, but something else felt dirty still. Gnawing his lip, Vice tried to ignore it. 

000 

Sometimes, K woke up in the middle of the night to find Vice staring out the window. From his sleeping bag on the floor, its a wonder the fumbling child can get around him and to the window without waking him up. Somehow though, he does it. 

Its unsettling to see Vice so...sombre. Like back in post-war Japan all over again. On more than one occasion, he'd woken up to the creeping dread that one day, Vice might not be there when he woke up. His fears are put to bed when he hears the snoring above him. 

000 

Its been two months, Vice mused, staring at his phone. There were a handful of texts from Jealous, ironically his least reliable party member, asking about his well being. Time passed in blips, impossible to keep track of these days. Everything felt heavy and disjointed, like his body wasn’t really his own. 

It was one arbitrary day, that he decided he'd go out. There wasn’t any particular reason, no drive, just that it felt like the right time to do so. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd spot one of his comrades. Maybe then, this blanket of apathy and unease would leave. K seemed thrilled at the prospect, as if he had thought Vice would never leave the apartment. 

There were a lot of things Vice never noticed before just now. The way the air smelt like car exhaust and grease, the way the sidewalk pitched up an inch every few feet to accommodate the hill they lived on. The way that the sun felt, warm and soft on his skin. 

Had he ever noticed that before...?

By some miracle, Vice managed to go into the gas station, pay for a slurpee and leave. No chaos ensued, his legs didn’t give out, everything was going well. The thought that he wasn’t an invalid comforted him greatly. On top of that, the slurpee stung in the most delightful way, soothing his frayed nerves as he pushed open the door to the apartment. 

000 

Suddenly, Doji were at his door. Those too cowardly came in pairs or groups, but it made little difference. Jealous came first, polite and dressed in a suit, looking as if he'd transitioned from a perfect killing machine into a human with little trouble. His deadpan expression was easy to read. This was a formality. Perhaps it might have been actual concern to, but Vice found his traitorous comrade pitying him difficult to imagine.

“Everyone wants to know what to do next.” 

Vice sat there at the low table, staring at the child in front of him. Next. What next. What was next? Who even knew what Dunstan had planned? Licking his chapped lips, Vice muttered, “Dunno. Hadn’t thought of it.”

The thinly veiled lie didn’t fool Jealous. “You don’t say.”

“Who knows what the crazy old fuck is gonna do?” Vice said, shrugging and leaning back on his hands. He decided that was a poor move, when he spilled back.

As his vision stopped spinning, he heard an annoyed tut from the other Doji. “You're still weak.”

Vice remembered quickly why Jealous wasn’t his favorite partner in crime. “Fuck you. I'm strong as ever.”

Watching the former leader of the Evil Doji branch fumble to sit up again, Jealous snorted. Vice supposed not everyone took as long as he did to learn to limits of these pitiful meat sacks. Breathing shallowly, he sat up fully and scowled at Jealous's cold look of disgust. 

“Listen.” he began, setting a fist heavily on the table. “I'm still the leader here. Nothin's changed.” he didn’t miss the derisive snort. “We're gonna lay low. Its stupid to do something insane right now and he might just change it all on a whim.”

Jealous hummed in thought, seeming genuinely astounded. “Its strange to hear you give decent orders.”

“Get used to it.” Vice snapped, hating the way sweat stuck to his shirt and his pulse sped up. 

A hum of thought was his answer. Jealous was impossible to read, Doji or not. Standing from his spot at the table, the boy smoothed out his crisp suit and sighed. “Well. I suppose this was useful. Are we meeting soon?”

Meeting. Right, they'd always had meetings, hadn’t they? The energy it took to recall things these days was so draining. Vice nodded, waving a hand. “Next month. Pass the word around.”

Jealous nodded, turning and heading for the door. “Alright.”

Part of Vice wanted to stop him. Call him back, ask him how he'd done it. Most of him felt too exhausted from the simple conversation and in the end he watched the boy leave without saying a word. Others came after. Not many, but at least half of his generals. They all left the same as they'd come.

More came, but Vice stopped answering the door. Parroting back his plan made him nauseous. Thinking about something that already plagued his dreams and sleepless nights was making his stomach twist and put a need to run in his bones. So he didn’t

000 

A month passed before Vice even noticed. One moment, he was eating cereal out of the box and playing an old copy of Halo, the next there was a knock at his door. Glancing at the clock, Vice made a face. It wasn’t K, so whoever it was, was probably not welcome. 

Another knock. He ignored it. It kept coming. There was a buzz from his phone and he paused the game, opening it up to see a text. Huh. Jealous was here. With...the others. Huh.

Vice made sure he was presentable – clean, no stains on his clothes, hair brushed at least – before he made his way to the door. Seven small faces peered through the door, crowding the filthy hallway. It felt so strange to see everyone again. Not just masquerading as humans, but actually being one now. 

The meeting was short. Everyone had questions, fears, anxieties. Would this reprieve last? Were they still at war? What was going on? 

As their leader, Vice tried to sit patiently through these concerns. His answer hadn’t changed from earlier. “We'll sit tight. Lay low, figure out what exactly Dunstan is playing at this time.”

It seemed to put everyone’s minds at ease. Unlike Jealous, Vice could tell several of his generals were much the same as himself. Struggling to master simple parts of the human experience, or to understand just how to pilot this new body. Seeing even Desir, perfect and classy Desir, struggle to work his body was a relief. 

All in all, it was a successful meeting. His generals were at ease for the time being, the burden of leading was gone for now and Vice could get back to his game. 

000 

Vice swam in a different current than time. Trying to make sense of it tended to be exhausting and lulled him into a restless sleep. But when he was awake and when he was lucid enough to know where and who he was, he thought of Ultimo. 

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he'd wake up with a hollow ache in his chest. Memories of the red haired boy, with his sharp emerald eyes and the cruel way his lips curled, invaded his thoughts. Like tiny bits of glass, or the jabbing ache of hunger. 

It wasn’t that Vice liked Ultimo, particularly. Or, he didn’t think that was the case. But that stabbing sense of wrongness that not being near him caused was worse than anything else. 

One day, on a day very much like any other day, Vice woke up in the shower and decided enough was enough. 

The early spring sun beat on him mercilessly, the spindly branches of nearby trees doing little to shade him. Swallowing, Vice stared up at the cramped apartment complex, whole body buzzing. This was the closest he'd been to Ultimo in...he had no idea. Months, at least. 

He could feel him. Somewhere inside, was his other half. Soul thrumming, Vice wondered if there was a way to turn back time. If it could work, if Ultimo would let him. Probably not. If not due to the impossibility of it, then purely to spite him. 

Some part of him needed to go see him. To know that this was real, that this wasn’t just some cruel joke. But he couldn’t make his legs move. His heart was hammering at his ribs and he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. With a jolt of blinding terror, he turned on his heel and darted. 

000 

Every month was another meeting. Every meeting, fewer and fewer people came. At first it was hard for Vice to tell. All of the faces blurred and became difficult to tell apart once the meeting went on for any amount of time. But eventually, even Vice could see that only four out of the seven Evil Doji were sitting in his cramped little apartment. 

“Its rather spacious, when there isn’t nine people crowding it.” Jealous commented dryly. 

Vice wasn’t sure how or when, but everyone seemed to agree without telling him. About what, he had no idea. It didn’t matter, because whoever he could ask had already long since left. 

000 

Was anything real? Was this test real? Was he? 

More and more often, Vice found himself staring at the ceiling and wondering that. Sometimes, he dug his blunt nails into his skin, just to see. It didn’t do much. 

000 

Jealous still showed up to the meetings. Even when no one else did, Jealous did. Vice kept calling them meetings, because if he acknowledged that it was all over, he wasn’t sure what he'd do. It didn’t matter.

Sometimes Lune accompanied the thin, exhausted boy. The small blond would bring boxes of snacks and a plastic bag of canned drinks, and make light conversation. He was the primary venue of Vice's information regarding Ultimo. 

Just to hear the redheads name made his skin crawl. It felt good to hurt. It felt good to feel alive. To know he was real and, whole or not, he was something tangible. A memory of a better time. 

“He's doing well, I suppose.” Lune said, sipping his soda. “Sometimes, Ultimo comes with Yamato and I to the park.”

What a quaint little trio they must make.

“He looks...happy. I think he's doing really well.”

000 

K sighed tiredly, pushing open the door to the apartment. Muddy and smelly, and decidedly not getting paid enough to keep doing this, he kicked off his boots. It had been another long day and all he wanted was to just take a long shower.

The sound of the shower running told him that this probably wouldn’t happen for a while. Heaving another sigh, K went to the kitchen to scrub his hands and arms. Better to start on dinner. Vice tended to take a long time so there was no point in waiting. 

A quick glance in the fridge reminded the man of their dwindling income. Chewing at his lip, K dug around and thought about what to make. Omurice could work. Vice liked that enough. Although these days, he didn’t really taste his food. 

Time flew quickly, the ritual of cooking soothing away the days stresses. Even though it was always close to the surface, ready to burst, there was something so comforting about this. Home life was always something he'd had mixed feelings about but sometimes, when he saw the way Vice's eyes lit up over dinner, he thought maybe this was the way it should have been. Coming home after a long day of work, cooking dinner, watching Vice play video games...

Speaking of, he hadn’t come out of the shower yet. Setting down the plate, K frowned. It could be that he'd fallen asleep again, or it might be that he'd fallen. It wasn’t like the boy could do much harm but, best to be safe. He made his way to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Vice...?” he called. 

No answer.

“Vice, are you alright?”

No reply.

Swallowing back his unease, K noticed a particularly pungent smell. Frowning, he called out once more. “I'm coming in, alright?”

He almost wished he hadn’t

Immediately, the heat and mist of hot water overtook him. It gagged him, and it took a moment for K to realize it wasn’t the hot air but the stench of blood that stuck to his throat. Wheezing, he clapped a hand over his mouth and squinted into the foggy bathroom. On the floor of the shower, covered in blood and naked, was a barely lucid Vice. 

This was crazy.

Stumbling through the tacky goop on the floor – soap? Blood? – K made his way to the boy. A closer look provided the source of the blood. From elbow to palm, was a jagged gash. It was deep, enough to see past the fatty yellow and into the off white of bone. 

It took a lot not to vomit. But somehow, and K wasn’t sure how, he managed to grab a damp towel and tie it haphazardly around Vice's arm. At some point, the boy began to groan, mumbling something. Swallowing back the need to heave, K glanced at him. There was a kitchen knife in his hand, the blood congealed on the blade. 

“Why...?” the man breathed, voice catching. 

Through slit eyes, a sliver of gold rolled to glance at him. Could he even see? It didn’t matter, K thought, looping his arms under the boy. He had to get him to a hospital. 

000 

The world came back in shades of white. For a blessed for seconds, everything was right with the world. No pain, no missing pieces, just...numbness. Then, the world became clearer. He wished it hadn’t 

He was back in the lab. Heart hammering against his ribs, Vice tried to move. There was a tug at his arm and an acrid stench in his nose. Vice gagged, eyes watering. 

How had this happened? 

The test...had they passed? Failed? 

Everything was so bright...his head hurt so fucking bad...

There was a tip tap of footsteps, before a sturdy figure came to stop at his side. His breath caught and for a moment, Vice was certain that it was Dunstan. An ear splitting cry escaped him. A stabbing pain tore through his arm, but not enough to stop him as he launched out of the bed.

Immediately, arms caught him. Vice struggled against them, weak from months of inactivity, but powerful in his frantic need to stop. 

The arms stayed firm around him, until he had no energy left to struggle. Panting heavily, the dark edges around his vision began to fade. This wasn’t the lab. That man was not Dunstan. The realization that nothing had changed was both an unbelievable relief and a crippling disappointment. 

All of the air escaped Vice at once. He felt the world shift and there were voices all around him, loud and exhausting. Someone went to touch his arm. He jerked it away, hissing at the searing pain. A soft voice shushed him, murmuring near his ear. 

“Its okay, Vice...they're not going to hurt you.”

A long moment passed, before the voice registered. “K...?”

“Yeah. Its alright, you're safe.”

Vice leaned back into the man's chest, letting his heart rate slow. He glanced to his arm, staring at the deep, tacky red that stained his thick bandages. What had happened...? Bits and pieces of memories came back. A need to know, a need to be sure. 

But there were no wires or cables or metal inside of his arm. Just red meat, sickly yellow fat and a bone. And blood. Endless blood. 

He was still human.

Ultimo was still happy and separate from him, forever apart in even the most basic of ways. 

Letting out a ragged breath, Vice wished he hadn’t woken up.

000 

The hospital didn’t keep him long. His arm was cleaned and wrapped up in thick layers of bandages. K had picked up a bottle of pills and spent what little money they had on bandages and gauze. Part of Vice was guilty, guiltier than he'd ever been in his life. Most of him was just tired.

Bed was a relief. Sleep was a comforting blackness, a blip through the pain and time. He woke up when he had to take a pill, or K needed to change his bandages. He ate whatever he was handed and then went back to sleep. 

000 

“Why did you do that...?”

Blinking slowly, Vice glanced at K. The man was carefully cleaning his wound, a shopping bag full of soiled gauze between them. “Do what?”

K glanced at him, frowning. “This, Vice.”

Oh. Looking away, the boy sighed tiredly and leaned back against the headboard. Everything was exhausting. K had said it was due to the medicine, but he wasn’t so sure. “Had to be sure.” 

“Sure...of what?”

Vice chewed his lip, debating how to properly express himself. He didn’t think K would get it. “That I wasn’t a Doji.”

If the links had been made between the gory scene he'd walked in on and what Vice had said, the boy had no idea. But K hummed in thought, returning to the task at hand. “I see...”

000 

No one visited anymore. That was fine. Vice didn’t have the energy to deal with questions or the searching gazes. So this was fine.

It was fine.

000 

Money, Vice had learned long ago, made the world go round. Those who had it, had it all. Those who didn’t, moved back in with their grandmother in an old house on the outskirts of Farmless City. Sweat clung to his neck and back, sticking to his shirt, as Vice dragged his own bag of belongings up the gravel drive way. 

“I cant believe this...” K murmured, miserable as he shifted his duffel bag. 

In spite of his best efforts and Vice's former promises of riches, K couldn’t keep up with rent. In a never ending dog-eat-dog cycle, rent climbed and eventually, the landlord refused to overlook past due rent anymore. K's job at the construction company was temporary at best, fickle as most construction was. One month they ate rice and ramen, the next they ate beef and vegetables. Such was the way of that kind of job. 

But enough was enough. One night, while Vice lay awake in bed, he'd listened to K's murmuring voice through the front door. The next day, K was tentatively broaching the topic of moving home. Vice agreed. He knew that it wasn’t that K didn’t want to bring him, but more that K wanted to make sure he was comfortable with the idea. 

It lead to them standing here now. 

The house was an old two story building from far before the war. The design and fencing gave Vice a flash of deja vu and he had to fight back the need to turn around and go right back to the car. Drying his clammy hands on his already damp white shirt, he told himself to suck it up. 

They came to the door, shadowed from the sunlight, and were greeted by an aging woman. She couldn’t have been taller than Vice, but her warm smile made her seem capable of embracing the world with her thin arms. Surprisingly enough, she wore a t-shirt and jeans. It would figure, it was K's grandmother after all.

“Its been so long, Kei-chan!” she said, pulling the lanky man into a firm embrace.

K lit up, dropping his bag to hug her back. “Y-Yeah...” 

It was strange, seeing two people who loved one another interact. Vice had never understood it. Shuffling from foot to foot, he chose not to interrupt. It felt wrong. The two chatted for a bit, about things Vice had no real interest in as he zoned out. 

It smelled so fresh here. There were so many trees, it was so quiet and the cicadas were the only real noise this time of day. Distantly, he heard the chime of a school bell. 

“And this must be Vice.” 

Snapping out of his thoughts, the raven haired boy turned to blink at the woman. She smiled warmly at him and he wondered just how much K had told her about him. Not much, if she was turning such kind eyes on him. He didn’t offer her a hand to shake or a charming smile, simply mumbling a soft, “Hello.”

“Its good to meet you, Vice-kun.” she said, nodding. “Kei-chan's told me a lot about you. Its hard to believe.” with this, she laughed a bit.

Vice decided he liked the way she laughed. Shrugging a bit, he said, “Probably.”

With that, she ushered the two into the house. If the outside radiated a humble old fashioned sense, the inside was old fashioned. A calendar hung on the wall by the entrance, above a well loved shoe rack. Down the hall, he could see a short staircase. 

It was warm inside the house, but not because of the heat. There just seemed to be a natural comfort that hung in the air, like a warm hug or a bathroom after a long bath. The woman, whom K had called Granny, sat them at a low table in what must have been the living room. Sitting on a cushion, Vice couldn’t help but aimlessly look around the room.

Everything about this room radiated love. From family photographs to a hand knit doily on top of the old television set. The doors to the back yard were opened wide, a breeze playing around the wind chime above the door. It smelled like the old days, when he lived in the palace. 

Closing his eyes, Vice almost let the moment pass in a blip. It was so stifling, all of this comfort and warmth. He didn’t fit into it, not with his empty coldness or his dark past. A cold glass of barley tea was placed before him, the gentle clink of ice cubes tugging him from his thoughts. Blinking, Vice stared at the dark drink. 

“You look tired. A cold glass of iced tea always perked Kei-chan right up.” Granny said, smile ever present.

Unlike Ultimo, her smile was genuine. Swallowing hard, Vice lifted a sticky hand to the drink. It was a tad more acidic than he'd been expecting but the sweetness made up for it. Like a dunk in the river. The ice clicked against his teeth. Setting the cup down, he glanced back up at the woman. Her smile stayed.

“Thanks...” he mumbled. 

000 

The room he'd been given was old fashioned, tatami mats and a sliding door. A square light hung from the ceiling and pushed up against the wall was a narrow bed. In the middle sat a low table, presumably for guests. Vice couldn’t imagine using it for that. 

It was stifling. There was a window, sure, but that wasn’t the root of the problem. Gnawing his lip, the boy set down his bag. He didn’t have much, never needed much. Maybe it'd be enough to make this room his. 

000

The living room was Vice's favorite part of the house. Mid morning brought a warm patch of sunlight on the tatami, the open screen door letting in a cool breeze. He liked to lay and listen to the wind chimes tinkle and the birds talk amongst themselves. 

His favorite part about naps were the moments just before he dozed off, when he felt warm and safe and alive. It never lasted when he woke up. He was just on the edge of dozing off completely, when he heard soft footfalls in the garden. Cracking open an eye, he spotted Granny. 

Granny dug her fingers into the soil, grasping the root of a weed and tugging it free. She hummed a tune quietly to herself as she weeded the garden. Vice found the bare, soil covered roots to be unsettling. Closing his eyes again, he tried to get back to sleep. The sound of Granny's humming lulled him into sleep slowly, like being laid into a warm bed. Those roots stayed burned in his minds eye though. It felt like they wrapped around and burrowed into his brain. 

000 

No one came to visit. Not that Vice wanted anyone to, but some part of him thought it downright rude not to at least text him. Once, he got a call from Jealous. It was short, formality more than genuine concern. 

“I heard you moved. Should we set up a meeting in town or at your new residence?”

Vice almost said yes, come over, but some part of him greedily clung to the desire to keep this new life strictly to himself. In the end, he'd said, “The 7/11.”

Jealous didn’t need to ask which. The call ended with an awkward pause. 

000 

Vice awoke with a gasp, clutching at his chest desperately. For a long time, he stared at the bedsheets. Focused on breathing. His heart was beating painfully against his ribs, his throat tight and there was a aching emptiness once the terror passed. 

The boy swallowed hard, trying his best to fight back the sting in his eyes and the ache in his chest. He took a shaky breath and dragged the back of his damp hand over his eyes. Some of his hair had stuck there, matting the already oily locks. 

It took a long time before he could lay back into his damp bedsheets and stare at the dark ceiling tiredly. A longer time yet before he could admit to what had startled him awake so violently. He wouldn’t But he could.

Vice didn’t fall back asleep for a long time.

000 

“Vice-kun, could you help me with the groceries?”

Looking away from the spot he'd been staring into the ceiling, the raven haired boy blinked slowly. Sitting up, he shrugged. Granny smiled and headed for the kitchen. It was, like K's apartment, a small kitchen. Old fashioned appliances, a window, nothing much. There was a canister of pickled eggs on the top of the fridge. 

She'd bought a lot of vegetables this time around. Vice made a face at the radish in his hand. Granny laughed good naturedly. “Not a fan, eh?”

He shook his head, handing it over. The woman took it and tucked it away for later, humming to herself as she unloaded most of the bags alone. “What is your favorite food, Vice-kun?”

Talking took a lot of effort, but he pried his dry lips apart. “Hamburger. And omurice. Some gas station food.”

Granny nodded, folding up the bags. “K-chan really spoiled you, didn’t he?”

Vice shrugged. He supposed he did. It was a fair trade off, really. Even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t as if Vice cared. “I guess.”

“Well, if you like those kinds of things, I'll try to make things similar.” 

He felt like he should thank the woman, but the words were foreign and unpleasant on his tongue. Granny didn’t give any indication that she minded if he didn’t This woman was someone Vice decided he could get along with.

They kept on like that, in the warmth of a fading mid morning. If you'd told Vice he could live like this three months ago, he'd never have believed you. But it was starting to sink in, that this could be permanent. It both relieved and terrified the boy.

000 

The trip back into the city was unpleasant. People crowded much too close for his comfort and the bus stank of stale something or other. Still, he needed to get out. The meeting with Jealous was a great excuse and even though K fussed over him going out alone, Vice made his way to the bus station.

Summer was well underway, cicadas crying loudly in the trees and the heat searing his skin. It was stagnant, something Vice never really understood before. Now, sweat clung to him like a second skin and he was beginning to see why people complained about the heat so much.

It was a short hike from the bus station to the convenience store, blessedly. The doors slid open with a whoosh, cold air blanketing the child. Vice almost melted, sluggishly moving inside. A bell overhead chimed and the whir of machinery filled the air.

Home.

The cashier was new, a tired looking kid. But the display of bubble gum and the greasy heated rollers cooking hot dogs hadn’t changed. An aching need tugged at his throat and Vice remembered he was thirsty. He headed for the coolers, the chill a welcome sting on his sticky skin. 

It was easy to forget to do simple things. Even though it was months into this new body, Vice still found himself forgetting to drink or eat enough. 

“You've made a lot of progress, Vice! Just a little bit more, alright?”

Shaking his head, the boy couldn’t stop the disgust welling up inside. K had been so good to him. Taking care of him, explaining things. He'd seen Vice at the lowest point a human could reside, and still... It made Vice sick. He tugged the cooler door open with more force than necessary and grabbed a cold plastic bottle. 

No more, he thought. If nothing else, he'd be able to wipe his own ass and feed himself. He'd never be that low again. 

“If you squeeze that any harder, it'll break.”

Snapping from his thoughts, Vice glanced up to see Jealous. He was dressed as he always was, a dress shirt and slacks. Next to him, was the fair haired boy who'd owned him prior to six months ago. Vice hated that they didn’t seem even a little bit hot. 

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

Lune smiled pleasantly, a direct contrast to the boy beside him. “Its been a long time since we last spoke, Vice-kun.”

The raven haired youth shrugged, digging out his wallet. “I guess.”

“Not since the accident, if I recall.” the blond hummed, reaching into the cooler beside Vice.

Accident. Right, he thought, that’s what he'd said. What was it again...? If either comrade noticed the effort it took to recall this, they didn’t mention it. The trio made their way to the register. Vice didn’t have enough money. Spent it on the bus pass to and from. Lune had graciously paid for everything with a smile, gently assuring Vice he could pay him back later. 

He hated Lune.

He hated him more, when Lune suggested they go to the park. But Vice was too tired and hot to complain much, or offer up a better venue, and he shrugged. A cold pit formed in his stomach as he followed the two ahead of him, who chatted quietly about the weather. 

The trio made themselves at home at a worn old bench. It looked out onto a sunny field, children playing shrilly despite the heat. Cicadas cried loudly above them, but the two seemed oblivious. 

“School is beginning again soon.” Lune said, sipping his iced tea. 

Vice blinked slowly, his Calpico already lukewarm in his hands. “School?”

Jealous nodded. Vice watched the condensation drip down the bottled water he held, wishing he could be that cool. “Isn’t school for kids?” he muttered, taking a swig of his own drink.

“But we are kids.”

Vice wanted to tell Lune that no, they were not. They were Doji and far too intelligent to even be fit for a human school. He wanted to take that gently smiling face and smash it into the table. Instead, he took another drink. Jealous coughed into his hand.

“Its more to blend in, than to learn.” he explained. 

Right. They still had a mission. This could still turn around, like a car spinning on ice, and rocket them back to their battle with the Good Doji. Vice nodded, wiping his mouth on his hand. His chapped lips pulled at a scab and he winced. 

No one mentioned the scabs along his arms and hands. Sweat stung them, a constant reminder of his own physical discomfort. When they ran out of neutral topics to discus, Lune stood and offered to give Vice a ride back home. It was late in the day and the temperature had climbed. 

Vice felt immeasurably powerful, turning him down. 

He regretted it only a bit, as he struggled to breathe during the walk back to the bus station. His shirt was soaked and his body ached more than he could say, but he was happy. Something he'd felt only sparingly over the months. 

000 

“So what did you talk about?”

Vice stared at the ceiling, a fan off to his right blowing long strands of oily hair into his face. K had been curious that night when Vice returned, but the boy's sour attitude and loud dismissal in the form of a slamming refrigerator door had silenced him. 

Now, a few days later and far too exhausted to act on any threats, the man had him cornered. There was a heaviness in his limbs, his head stuffed full of wool. Even if he wanted to, talking was difficult. If K noticed, he didn’t comment, continuing to peel the potato in his hand. 

“I heard...t-that the Doji were all thinking about going to school.” K stammered, eyes darting to the prone boy before him. “I uh...You didn’t...want to go to, did you?”

Ahah. 

The root of this already tiresome encounter. Vice snorted, regretting it when his aching back protested as he sucked in a stale breath. K chewed his lip, brows knitting. “Its not...that bad.”

Tell that to the horrible little monster who'd acted as his master for all of two hours. Every memory in that child's mind had been tinged with blackness, heavy and thick. How had K even heard about the lives of other Doji? As far as Vice knew, the man went to work and home. No friends or late night bar scenes, but then K was a bit old for that anyway. 

Still, this felt...staged. 

Rolling his head from the sweat sticky tatami, Vice leveled the man with a dull look. K had the decency to look back at his potato. “I-Its just a suggestion...” he mumbled. 

000

Vice could understand where ghost stories came from, now that he lived in a creaky old house. He clutched the blanket closer to himself, creeping down the hall. His vision wouldn’t quite focus and the dark blur of shapes told him he'd almost walked into at least two end tables. Human bodies were pathetic. 

The light switch for the upstairs hallway was far from his bedroom, too far to reach from the comfort of his doorway. Halfway to it, Vice gave up and decided he was being irrational. The only monster in this house was himself. 

A dim light shone from the bottom of the stairs. Vice took his time going down, already wary. He hadn’t thought anyone would be up at this time of night. Peering into the kitchen, he spotted Granny. Vice watched her search for a cup for a moment, before turning to leave. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” 

Vice's paused, heart stuck in his throat. Granny kept on working in the kitchen, the soft clink of cups echoing in the quiet. After a moment, Vice turned to face the woman. She didn’t turn to face him, instead setting a kettle on the stove top. 

“I'm making tea, if you'd like some.” she continued, as if his silence was an answer. “Sit, sit.”

Eying the table, Vice found the pull of it hard to ignore. It wasn’t like he could sleep anyway and the dark hallway made his skin crawl for some reason. He padded over to the chair, awkwardly trying to maneuver himself and his thick blanket to sit comfortably. 

“What sort of tea do you like?” 

Worrying the hem of his oversized t-shirt, Vice frowned. “Don’t have one.”

“That’s alright.” Granny hummed, digging a bit in a canister. 

Vice wondered if that was something he was supposed to have an answer for. He'd never really drank tea. He'd had it a few times, sure, but the taste or the luxury of fine tea was lost on him. He preferred booze or tart juice. Somehow that made him feel childish. 

When Granny turned around, two mugs of tea in her hands, Vice felt his heart slip a bit in his throat. She set the mug down for him, gesturing to the container of sugar packets next to the napkin holder. “Its a bit bitter.”

Taking his mug, Vice reached for three packets of sugar. The warmth of the mug was almost stifling. He stared into his cup. Granny sat across from him, blowing on her tea and taking a sip. This all felt so...

“Its a nice night, isn’t it?” Granny said, humming. “If only it weren’t so cold out.”

Vice raised an eyebrow, and the woman laughed a bit. It was the middle of July, but she wasn’t wrong. It felt like April. He took a sip of his tea, face scrunching up. “Bitter...”

“You didn’t add enough sugar.”

As Vice reached for another packet, he noticed Granny's smile warming. Without meaning to, his own lips began to tilt up. He hid it hastily behind a mumble about bitter things being gross. 

000 

The outdoors were a hard no, for Vice. In the past, he used to roam the forests, doing whatever he wanted. Kill, steal, what have you. Now, the outdoors were stifling and the summer heat much too close to his skin for his comfort. 

Dangling from his window, he mourned the loss of his fans and cooling systems. He was so bored. K was hard at work, still attempting to make ends meet and pay back debts. Granny had gone out with the neighbor to the grocery store. He wondered if she'd make hamburger steak tonight, or maybe curry. 

Dimly, Vice wondered how someone like K could get so lucky. A warm, safe haven to run away to, a grandmother who cared about him. If he tried, Vice could remember his own past. There were no kindly grannies. The orphanage had been barren of any warmth or kindness. He'd only been there for a short time, before Dunstan had found him and taken him in. 

This was like a vacation. 

The more he thought about it, the less of a punishment this short reprieve seemed. Maybe Dunstan had really meant for this “test” to be a gift. Maybe the heat was frying Vice's brain. It all seemed plausible, in the sweltering August afternoon heat. 

Distantly, he heard a car round the bend. Granny's beat up old car pulled into the gravel driveway, the backseat full of plastic bags, and Vice felt the lead in his limbs begin to ease. He pulled himself from the window and made his way through to house, meeting the older woman at the door. 

Granny's surprised smile was worth the effort it took to drag himself around. It was worth the misery of the last few months, he decided. This was a vacation. It was time to start living it like one.

000 

“K, leave me the fuck ALONE.”

The older man groaned, rubbing his forehead and wondering if it was truly worth the effort to rouse the child. It was another humid afternoon, the same as any other August. Shuffling from foot to foot, K wondered if Granny would be a better candidate for this.

“We're all going to a festival, Vice.” he called again, this time with as much cheer as he could muster. “Granny wanted us all to go out as a family.”

At first, K wasn’t sure if the loud thump was a pillow hitting the door or Vice falling out of bed. His answer was a bedraggled child opening the door, eyes narrowed like a hateful cat. “What kind of festival?”

K's mouth formed a relieved smile, the sight of Vice in one of his old Metallica shirts too adorable. “Lots of food and games. They make takoyaki.”

He could almost hear Vice's stomach growl. The boy swallowed hard and ducked back into his cluttered room. If it was possible, the floor was covered even more in laundry and snack wrappers than the last time K had seen it. Which was yesterday. 

000 

Tanabata always had a place in Vice's heart. Humming a bit, he chomped away at a dango, hand in his pocket. It was so lively and full of light and noise, something he normally despised. But festivals were different. K had wanted to stop at least three times just to look at “really cool masks” and shirts. 

Granny had to gently coax K away from a more expensive mask, promising he could always come back later tonight if he still wanted it. Vice had laughed at his pathetically sad expression, but he himself wasn’t much better. Once he realized that there was no way he'd be getting any of the sake, he'd almost thrown a fit. Granny had looked at him with a frown and he stopped quickly. 

Now, to soothe his bruised pride, the would be Evil Doji president stuffed his face with takoyaki and wondered if he could get some cotton candy at the next stall. There wasn’t much to this particular festival, here in Tokyo. With so much to see and do on a routine day, he guessed it made sense to push out the old and pull in the new. 

“Don’t you wanna try some of the games, Vice-chan?” Granny asked.

Games. Games were for kids, is what he wanted to say. Instead, Vice shrugged and mumbled, “Don’t know how to play any of em.”

“Come on then, I'll teach you.” Granny said, gently tugging the boy by the elbow. 

Nearby, was a host of stalls. Dozens of children surrounded each, many in colorful yukata. Vice felt his pride begin to curl at the sides at the sight. Once it was their turn, they wormed their way to the front and Vice saw what exactly he was supposed to play. 

Yo-Yo's. A tub full of colorful balloons filled with water. The idea being, from what he could gather from watching other children, that he was supposed to fish one out of the water with a flimsy paper net. This constituted fun, in this day and age. How had humans stagnated so much?

Vice didn’t attempt to show his displeasure, simply taking a net and slipping it under a yo-yo. It tore through the paper without pause. Frowning, Vice wondered what had gone wrong. He'd calculated it the best he could, so why?

K handed him another net. “You have to be faster.” he explained, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.

Faster. Well if it was that easy... 

Another two nets were spent proving that, in fact, it was not that easy. Maybe he was approaching it wrong? Screwing up his face, Vice debated leaving it be. A child squealed beside him, holding up a yo-yo proudly. Vice's eye twitched and he decided not to. 

One more time... 

If he just slipped the net like this, and moved it quickly...

“You did it, Vice!” K cried, ecstatic. 

Vice stared dumbly at the yo-yo. It wobbled threateningly on the damp paper and he hurriedly pulled it close. A couple of kids clapped and cheered for him, noisy things that they were, and Vice was generous enough not to snap at them for it. 

Granny clapped, smile wide and bright. “It looks really nice, Vice-kun!”

The boy grinned back. “It does.”

“Lets celebrate!” K chimed in.

Cotton candy and fried noodles were his reward. Seeing K so vibrant and Granny so proud, it felt almost... right. Whole. Like the world was spinning on the right axis. Vice tried his hand at a few more games, atrocious at all of them equally. He won a bouncy ball and a cheap plastic mask. 

Later, Vice carefully placed each on a shelf in his room. The yo-yo, he'd emptied of water and stuffed it with a sock. It was lumpy, but it would stay solid and whole. Sometimes, when Vice couldn’t sleep, he watched the yo-yo spin lazily with the breeze. 

The thin white stripes that criss-crossed the yo-yo were almost hypnotic, and the spots of yellow against the orange reminded him of sunsets on the back porch. 

000

The seasons slipped by without Vice even realizing it. One moment he was roasting sweet potatoes with K and granny in the garden, the next he was helping K shovel out the neighbor's driveway. Muttering to himself, Vice wrapped the scarf closer to his face. 

If you'd had told him a year ago that he'd be shoveling strangers driveways, at the request of an old woman he'd been forced to live with, Vice would have laughed. And probably stabbed you. It was a departure. 

A snowball sailed across the yard, landing with a splat to his side. Turning, the boy spotted K. The grin on the man's face began to drop when he saw the scowl on Vice's face. Without a word, he began to kneel and dig in the snow. 

“I-I'm sorry, Vice, r-really...!” K began, raising his hands to placate the boy.

Some things never faded. Vice stood up, an enormous snowball in hand, and wheeled around to lob it at the man. It fell apart mid flight, but it had the effect he'd wanted. K had squealed and ducked, tumbling down into the snow in his haste to escape the former robot's wrath. 

“You two are so energetic!” came a light voice, a laugh following after.

Glancing over his shoulder, Vice felt his scowl deepen under his thick scarf. K sat up in the snow, a nervous laugh escaping him. The woman gestured for them to come to the door and Vice noticed a basket in her hand. K trotted over to the woman. 

“Thank you again, you two really saved me.” she said, a smile turning up her chubby wrinkled face.

K smiled warmly, taking the basket. “Its nothing, really.”

Vice wondered if he'd known her for a long time. He seemed so at ease. Leaning on the shovel, he looked up at the cloudy sky. He could hear a radio somewhere playing Christmas music. Everyone in this tiny neighborhood seemed to know K or his Granny. It felt like he was out every other day with one of them, doing errands for some neighbor.

“Vice, are you ready to go home?” K asked, suddenly a few paces to his side.

Blinking, he refocused his attention on the man. He shook his head to dislodge some snow from his face, standing up straight. “Yeah.”

000 

It had been a solid year since his transition from a Doji, to a human child. 

Vice turned a snow globe over in his hands, watching the flakes drift about. The tv was on nearby, an old claymation cartoon playing. K was fast asleep on the floor, a pillow squashed to his chest. It was early still, but they'd been running around town for what felt like hours. 

He wondered if this was like a birthday. 

Do you decide your own birthday? 

Blips of anxiety reminded him that this could be a test. That someday, he'd wake up and all this could be gone. He shook the snow globe and refused to acknowledge the way his skin itched. 

K made a noise in his sleep. From the kitchen, he could hear Granny cooking and smell chicken frying. Counting to himself, the itch began to subside again. The snow flakes drifted by in a flurry and Vice found that he couldn’t look away. 

Was Ultimo also thinking about this? 

Their birthday had been in August, a sweltering time of year even in the chilly steel city of the Northern Island. Their family had made them fried squid and given them a new doll on their last conjoined birthday. For the life of him, Vice couldn’t even remember their parents faces. 

If he could decide his own birthday, he supposed today might as well be it. He didn’t really have any other day that meant much to him and factually, this was the day he was reborn as a human. As his own person. 

000 

Crowds remained one of Vice's least favorite things. He missed the ability to mow them down, ridding himself of the claustrophobic feeling they left him with. 

Taking a long breath and holding it, Vice followed Granny and K up the shrine stairs. Granny's small hand held his, gently guiding him. He tried to remember the last time he went to a shrine, but the memories that surfaced were ones better left forgotten. A dull ache filled his chest and one step at a time, Vice attempted to put those feelings behind him. 

Snow fell in lazy strings, blending with the flickering stars. Frosty oranges and bruised purples were giving way to night and with it, the end of the old year.

Granny had insisted that the best way to start a new life, was to visit the shrine on New Years. Vice thought differently, but he'd be hard pressed to refuse the woman. As they shuffled up the steps, breath puffing out before them, Vice could hear the steady tolling of heavy bells. 

He'd heard them all the way by the house before. This close, they filled his head and rung his bones. It felt as if they were trying to cleanse him, to chase away who he was and usher in the new Vice. 

It would have been funny, the thought of someone believing they could change him, if it hadn’t happened once before. He held Granny's small hand a bit tighter. She squeezed back and the bile began to settle back into his stomach. 

They made their rounds, taking the time to do the usual offerings and rituals. It felt surreal to actually partake in the holiday, instead of causing mayhem during it. Granny paused in front of a booth covered in colorful talismans and charms. She began to speak to the man running it and Vice wondered what she was doing. Beside him, K looked as out of place as he felt. 

After a moment, the woman returned with a handful of charms and a warm smile. “I thought we might start the year off with the best chances possible.”

K looked at the charms oddly. “Granny...?”

The woman sorted the small fabric bags and pressed two into Vice's hand and a handful into K's. The man spluttered, half offended by the collection of hints and prods. His own were straightforward and simple. A small candy apple red fabric bag emblazoned with the word for “happiness”, soft pink and purple flowers bordering it between tufts of grain. The second, an off white fabric bag with gold patterns, the words “evil away” boldly sewn into it.

He wasn’t sure what exactly to think, turning the bags over in his hand. Was this meant to be a hint? His stomach lurched. The woman pointed to the happiness charm. “This is to ensure the next year will be full of good things.” she explained. Then, to the golden bag, she said, “This one is to chase away the negative thoughts that drag you down.” 

Oh. 

Well now he felt ungrateful. Cheeks burning, he stuffed them into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Its nothing, Vice-kun.”

He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t K continued to talk about his own charms, musing aloud about what kind of things might happen. The skin where the charms had touched felt tingly. 

000 

Dangling from the same shelf as his yo-yo and mask, were the charms he'd been given. They seemed out of place next to a Metallica poster. Vice watched them spin idly in a draft, laying on his bed. 

Chasing away negative thoughts. Chasing away the past. Trying to become something new, something better. All things Vice attributed to Ultimo. These weren’t the traits of himself. He wasn’t something good. He wasn’t even something happy. 

Granny seemed to think he was. Or that he could be. 

She didn’t know any better though. For all she knew, he was just some kid K had picked up. She didn’t know what he'd done or how evil he actually was. Dread filled him at the thought of the woman ever knowing.

The evil warding charm spun lazily. His stomach flipped and he thought that this was as good as any reason to change. To preserve the life he was making. To scrape together a reason to wake up every day. 

So that Granny never had a reason to look at him in disgust, he thought. He'd do what he had to. 

There was no use pretending he wanted to change for his own good. Empathy and misery didn’t make him any less abhorrent. But maybe...maybe this could be his start. 

The final bell of the year tolled, echoing into the night. Long after he drifted off to sleep, the bell reverberated in his bones. 

0000000000

so there it is. Fun stuff. Pretty heavy, miserable shit but I mean, its vice. You couldnt expect that to go any better really. But there. If anyone has questions, lemme know.


End file.
